


Bare

by VampyrePrince



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampyrePrince/pseuds/VampyrePrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has been ignoring John for a while, and the reasons for this are deeper than the doctor can imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bare

**Author's Note:**

> Something short I wrote to beat my writer's block. It came about after playing with my John and Sherlock Sims.

It was late by the time Sherlock had returned that evening. John hadn't expected him to be out so long, and was rather angry by the way his friend carelessly strode in without a word, removed his jacket and quickly made his way to the fire to warm his hands. It must have gotten cold outside – they were red and dry as he flexed them in the pale orange glow. John watched the skin stretch over the bones as his anger grew. It was ridiculous to be angry at Sherlock for staying out late, but he had run off without John and didn't tell him where he was going. They had barely said a word to each other all day, let alone even made eye contact except for the two seconds it took Sherlock to throw his coat on and say, “be back later!” 

John closed his eyes in frustration and sighed, and when he opened them again Sherlock seemed to finally realize his blogger was present.

“Oh, John. Good you're here. I need your assistance with-”

“Where in the hell have you been all night? I was worried you'd been taken somewhere or drugged again, or something much worse. You really need to let people know when you're just going to up and disappear for no reason!”

“I doubt anyone really cares.”

For some reason the statement hit John a bit hard, and he stood up from his chair rather forcefully to glare at Sherlock. The detective hadn't even flinched but stood stock still as always, his back now turned to the glowing flames in the hearth. He was awaiting John's outburst patiently as he had done so many times before. He had grown used to them since his return after the fall. John had become more protective over him than ever because of those events, but there was a lot of trust between them that had been broken because of it. Their friendship was strong enough to mend itself over time, of course, but there was a certain hesitation John held when Sherlock would confide in him about anything anymore. It was as if he could never trust Sherlock again. The pain John had endured for those few lonely years without his best friend was just too much to bear, and he was still getting over the fact that Sherlock was still alive and breathing right before him.

“If you're going to throw a fit just get it over with instead of standing there fuming like an angry child.”

“You have no idea, do you? You'd think after what happened you'd have grown a bit of a heart, but I suppose I'm wrong on that one.”

“Here we go again. I'm fine, John. Look,” Sherlock wiggled his fingers to emphasize his point, “I'm here now, unscathed. Not drugged.”

“That isn't the point. The point is you really need to start letting me know where you're going when you're heading out if you're going alone. Regardless of what you may think in that machine of a brain, I do care what happens to you.”

Sherlock turned back around and dropped his defenses momentarily at the word 'machine'. Many often used it in reference to him, but in truth that was all that he knew most of the time. He chose to block out a lot of those foolish emotions a long time ago as they were only a hinder to his work, but there were a few times in his life when his defenses were brought crashing down, just like they had now. There was only ever one person who had the ability to do such a thing, and he was standing beside the detective at that very moment with his arms crossed. It puzzled him as to why John had that power over him, but he was certain he was coming to the realization that John was more than just his blogger or a 'side-kick' of sorts. What that thing was, however, Sherlock was afraid to admit.

The detective glanced beside him and then back to the fire. 

“I'm... sorry, John.”

John's expression eased a bit and he dropped his hands to rest at his hips. 

“You'd better be, because I know you. You'll say anything to make people happy.”

“If you refuse to accept my apology then I'll just go to bed.”

As Sherlock's eyes turned venomous he turned to walk in the direction of his bedroom, but was stopped by a gentle hand on his arm.

“I accept your apology, no need to stamp your feet. There's no point in fighting all evening like this. I'm sorry for getting upset.”

Sherlock closed his eyes as he took in the feeling of John's comforting gesture. The bastard was too easy to forgive and too soft-hearted. It was starting to rub off on the detective and he hated it. He hated the way this man seeped under his skin so easily by doing the smallest of things. Sometimes all John had to do was smile to assure Sherlock everything would be alright, and it was that smile that he always trusted. It was the oddest thing, because Sherlock usually trusted no one but himself.

When the detective finally opened his eyes once more John's hand had left his arm and he felt his heart sink. He had never had anyone care about him so much before, and the fact that the doctor had grieved so long over his feigned death meant more to him than anyone would ever understand. 

Sherlock steeled his emotions and turned to face John once more.

“You forgive much too easily, that is going to be your downfall one day.”

John smiled, that smile that always assured Sherlock that everything was right in the world.

“You've got your weaknesses too. Don't act like you don't.”

Sherlock's lip twitched into a half smile. Of course he had one weakness. He'd thought it was pretty obvious anyway.

“You really are an idiot.”

“What did I say this time to deserve that?”

“You know my weakness.”

John tensed as Sherlock stared into his eyes with a new intensity that he had never seen before. It wasn't a look commonly shared between two friends, let alone two men. He hadn't really expected Sherlock to answer truthfully; the usual response would have been a silent eye roll or an arrogant 'of course I don't.' This time, however, there was definitely something else going on. 

John swallowed hard and created a bit of space between them.

“Finally admitting you're not infallible?”

“Don't make this so difficult. It's you, you idiot.”

John grabbed onto Sherlock in a quick reflex to keep from falling as he was pulled forward. It had happened so fast that his brain was still registering what had transpired. He was squeezed tightly against the thin body before him, two long arms locking him into place. He nervously patted Sherlock's back as he was squeezed even tighter in what was becoming a very awkward bear hug. 

His heart began to beat madly as he felt a deep sigh escape Sherlock's chest. It was full of sadness and soon accompanied by a frustrated groan.

“Why do you do this to me, John.”

“What's gotten into you tonight? Are you sure you're alright?”

“No, I'm not alright. I've never felt worse to be honest.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Sherlock huffed as a smile crept across his face against John's shoulder.

“I'm not sure you'll be willing to understand.”

“I just might. Why don't you let me go and we can figure this out over a cuppa tea.”

Sherlock shifted his head to rest his lips by John's ear, his warm breath sending shivers down the doctor's spine.

“That is the problem, John. I can't let you go.”

“Listen to yourself, Sherlock. You're not acting like yourself, are you sure you weren't drugged?”

“Of course I wasn't.”

He said it a bit more harsh than he had intended, but his own patience was wearing thin. He was starting to feel the worst sense of frustration he had in a while, and it was making his body restless. Part of Sherlock wanted to cry as the feelings of adoration he felt in that moment completely overwhelmed him for the first time ever, and the other part of himself wanted to get closer somehow, to cross that forbidden line that he had drawn for himself long ago. He had told himself that he would never have anything to do with relationships or the like; they were much too complicated and emotional, and led to one too many problems that he could do without. Or could have done without. The damage had already left him unsettled. The day that he had jumped off of that building, the day that he had said goodbye to John – even though he knew logically it was an act to save the lives of those that meant something to him, the reality of the situation had broken through and caused him to weep. John had felt pain in its worst form that day and Sherlock could hear it in his voice. The very sound had broken Sherlock's heart. He had hurt the one he truly loved in the world without meaning to.

But it was in the past. What was done was done and he had to deal with the after effects now. He loved John Watson. Screw everything else he had embedded into his emotionless brain. Some things just couldn't be blocked out, especially if they were strong enough to cause this much frustration.

“I'm sorry, John.”

“Why do you keep apologizing? You've done nothing wrong.”

Sherlock loosened his grip on his friend a bit and relaxed.

“I'm sorry because I've betrayed your trust, and I'm sorry because I've fallen in love with you.”

John's cheeks turned hot as he replayed the words over and over in his mind, just to be sure he had heard right. It must have been the reason for Sherlock's cold shoulder recently, and for his display of attitude that was a bit more harsh than usual. The way Sherlock had been acting had John believing that the detective was just bored of him, and that their time apart had weakened their bond. All that time Sherlock had been fighting with himself over his feelings for John, and the doctor didn't even know what to say about it. It had crossed his mind a few times, the thought of he and Sherlock together, but it was either because he had one too many to drink or his mind was distracting him with involuntary thoughts. 

As the silence grew between them, John cleared his throat to speak before he hurt Sherlock's feelings by being unresponsive.

“I... well, I'm flattered, of course.”

Sherlock let his hands slide away and he went to back away before John grabbed him by the waist, the second time that night that John had stopped him from leaving. Sherlock looked into his friend's eyes, and it almost made John chuckle to see the child-like fear in those eyes that were usually so confident and determined.

“You're always too quick to make a deduction based upon people's reactions. That, Sherlock, is your downfall.”

John laughed as Sherlock nearly knocked him over in his rush to get at his lips. The kiss was one of the most intense that John had shared in a long time. It felt strange to be kissing his best friend that he had been living with for so many years, and even stranger due to the fact that it was a man and not a woman. He was surprised that his body had the reaction that it did in that moment; he was enjoying the new feeling and the excitement, but also the raw passion that was developing between both of them. He had never pegged himself to be a gay man, and he still didn't, but there was something about Sherlock that made it okay. His body was screaming 'yes', and that was as good enough an answer as a sober mind could give.

John felt his breath leave him completely as Sherlock's hands wandered down his body to feel everything that they could reach. It felt amazing to be touched by someone that cared for him so strongly, and that only served to increase his own growing emotions towards what was transpiring between them. 

When they parted Sherlock latched onto John's neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave a dark bruise. It hurt slightly, causing John to let out a sharp hiss.

“Hey, I never said you could go that far!”

Sherlock came back up and licked his warm swollen lips, his old self shining through his eyes once more.

“You do realize that by consenting in that manner you've started something that I refuse to back out of.”

“Just hold on, you can't rush it like that.”

“I'm just letting it be known that you are mine.”

“Possessive already, are you?”

“I can be quite possessive if the mood strikes me. For example, there are many things I would love to possess right now, and all of them involve you on the floor. Preferably without that damn jumper.”

John chuckled and pushed Sherlock off of him, working his way into the kitchen. The detective followed him like a lost puppy and crept up behind him, interrupting John's momentary digging in the cupboard for some tea. He wrapped his long, thin arms around the doctor and pressed their bodies together.

“You're not getting away that easily.”

John shook his head and sighed.

“How long has it been, exactly?”

“What are you talking about?”

“How long has it been since you've been with someone?”

Sherlock sulked against John's back, instantly making him regret the question.

“I... have never been with anyone. I would have preferred it that way until you distracted me.”

John scooted over to the stove to start the kettle, dragging Sherlock with him in the process.

“Sherlock I can't do anything with you hanging on me.”

“Deal with it. I'm not moving.”

“You really are irritating sometimes.”

John turned around in Sherlock's arms and was met with another kiss, this one a bit more provocative as Sherlock nipped at John's bottom lip. Although John was nervous about being backed up against a lit stove, he couldn't ignore the fact that he was feeling pretty good right now, nor could he ignore the very obvious sign in Sherlock's pants that he was hinting for something more. John decided to humor his new boyfriend's desires and let his hands wander a bit. He passed them over the silky material of Sherlock's shirt and down the trail of buttons, clear down to the waist of his jeans, tugging at them slightly in an attempt to further frustrate and tease Sherlock. It had the desired effect – his friend's hips bucked sharply against his and started grinding slowly. That did it. John finally felt his own need rising with his body temperature.

They nearly forgot about the kettle on the stove and jumped as it whistled loudly into the kitchen. John took a deep breath and spun around to turn off the stove. He wasn't very much in the mood for tea now.

“Alright Sherlock; you, bed, now.”

The detective lifted an eyebrow and added a bit of a sarcastic edge to his tone.

“I thought the gentleman doctor Watson didn't want to rush into things, if I remember correctly.”

“Do you want to do this or not?”

“Obviously.”

With no further conversation, the two walked quickly to Sherlock's bedroom, not even bothering to close the door as Sherlock knocked John forcefully onto the bed and crawled over him, wasting no time in leaving another possessive mark on his love's beautiful bare skin.


End file.
